Hope, Rekindled
by Miss Kyree
Summary: Peter Pettigrew is discovered two years after that fateful Halloween night. A free Sirius is able to fulfill his promise to James and raise Harry. He quickly learns, however, that though Voldemort is gone, his young godson has never actually been in the clear. {In which Sirius Black, a formerly convicted mass-murderer, and Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, attempt to be a family.}
1. A Traitor Revealed

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or it's characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling._

 **Author's Note:** Rated T _just_ in case. This is starting off in Remus' point of view, but the story is going to be centered on Sirius and Harry, and what could have been had Sirius been released ten years earlier. I first published this story a few years ago and had the first seven chapters up, but I am re-uploading it now, as I'm doing some fixing up and revising. Enjoy!

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Remus Lupin muttered incoherently to himself as he strode down the snow covered street. He was growing increasingly discouraged by all the job refusals because of his... condition. The shop owner's sputtering voice still rang in his ears: "I refuse to let a savage- a _beast_ \- into my store! Get out! Get out now!"

 _It's only one day a month that I'm not fit to work, but that argument does not reach them..._ The werewolf bit his lip in thought, tucking his hands into the pockets of his old, tattered overcoat.

He was in a foul mood. And why shouldn't he be? Quite frankly, his life had been all but promising lately. Just over two years previous, he had lost all four of his dearest friends in a single night: two to Voldemort himself, one to another so called 'friend', and one to the dark side.

The following months had found him mainly cooped up in his home. He'd felt as though all he could do was wallow in his own grief, in his failure to stop what had happened, and in his anger at the man they'd all trusted. He'd thought the least he could do was try to take Harry in, James and Lily's boy- he owed that much to them- but was he was quickly told this was not possible.

It was a miserable time, the very worst of his life. His friends had been his family. To be so completely, suddenly _alone_ had left the man feeling a shell of himself.

He was making the effort to continue onward, though, having had eventually forced himself out of his small cottage. It had seemed to be closing in on him after too long, effectively trapping him in his loneliness. He'd numbly gotten up and continued where he'd left off with his search for a job. No such luck had been granted to him in the year that had passed, and Remus, normally a man of patience, felt his wearing thin.

As he passed closing stores, he absentmindedly eyed the Christmas decorations hung in the windows. The sight of a smiling Santa toy flying around in his sleigh and the faint sound of holiday tunes did little to lift his spirits, this year. He watched as children giggled and chased one another down the sidewalk, snow packed in their hands, accidentally bumping into a young couple. The children's stern faced parents rushed after them, shopping bags in hand. He suddenly felt very old, hardly like a man in his early twenties.

The cold air nipped at him and he shivered, deciding it was time to head home. Tomorrow would be a new day, he hoped. As he continued his stride, burrowing his chin into his neck for warmth, he spotted a group of multiple redheads exiting a shop.

 _The Weasleys_ , he thought, a tiny smile playing at his lips. He'd recognize the fiery haired family a mile away. Molly Weasley was currently ushering her children along as the older two- they looked like twins- laughed at a younger brother, whose cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

"Oh, you _two_! Both of you, quick picking on your brother! Don't you listen to them, Ron," he overheard Molly say sternly, holding Ron's small hand as she shot a warning glare at the two still chuckling boys.

Before Remus could wonder idly what the mischievous looking boys had done to embarrass the little boy- he couldn't be older than four, _about Harry's age_ , Remus thought sadly- another son of Molly's exited the shop. He held what looked like a pet rodent in his gloved hands.

"Percy, dear, you really shouldn't have brought Scabbers along, it's far too cold..." Molly was saying, but Remus was no longer listening. His gaze lingered on the rat.

Something sparked in Remus' foggy brain, and a faint but familiar smell overwhelmed his heightened senses. His stomach dropped. After a moment of shock he picked up his pace, squinting at the small creature in the boys hands. This was absolutely ridiculous of him, he tried to tell himself; his friend was dead, lots of little boys owned pet rats, it could not _possibly_ be, but that smell-

The rat, now squirming frantically in young Weasley's grip as he seemed to catch sight of a rather wild looking Remus, was missing a toe.


	2. An Innocence Proven

Sirius Black staggered through Azkaban, suddenly deaf to the shrieks of mentally unstable prisoners through their bars. He felt strangely as though he were walking through a cloud. Was he dreaming? Or was this a cruel joke?

"You're free, Sirius." Dumbledore had looked upon him in his cell sadly, taking in the state of his ex-pupil. "Peter Pettigrew has been discovered and, under questioning, been forced to reveal the truth." Sirius had been able to do little else but stare as his mind attempted to wrap around words he'd only dreamed of hearing.

Wormtail had been found. The traitor he'd called friend, the coward who'd managed to effectively rip Sirius' life right out from under him, had been discovered. And Sirius was free.

Dumbledore was leading him through and out of the prison, and so dazed was he that Sirius for the next few hours did not fully comprehend what went on around him. Several people appeared and were speaking to him, cautiously shaking his hand and giving shaky 'congratulations', explaining what would happen to him now, but he couldn't hear a word.

He was free. He was _free_.

Eventually Dumbledore was gently guiding him away from the chaos. Before Sirius knew it, they were in the old headmaster's office. The once familiar room now seemed foreign; it's bright colors and liveliness were a stark contrast to his dreary Azkaban cell.

And it was so alarmingly _quiet_. No ranting and raving from the insane, no hysterical, high-pitched screams as inmates cowed away from hungry Dementors lurking outside their cells. The newfound silence, though welcomed, was a tad disorienting. He blinked. Only hours before he'd been nearly certain that he was to rot away as an innocent man in prison, forever plagued by the memory of his failure that horrible night.

Dumbledore turned to him with a soft smile, shaking him out of his reverie.

"Everything has been worked out- you are indeed a free man. And, my dear boy... I am terribly, terribly sorry. About all of this." The old man's blue eyes were filled with deep regret, and Sirius had to look away. The anger that began to boil within him was all-too familiar.

Over two years of his life had been wrongly taken away from him... thanks to the rat.

Dumbledore placed a hand on the young man's shoulder and, after realizing he'd been glaring daggers at a wall, Sirius met his eyes. "Where's Peter now?" he asked, clearing his throat when he found his voice terribly raspy and disused. "Who discovered him?"

"Peter is back at Azkaban, awaiting his fate in a prison cell. Yes," he said slowly at Sirius' questioning gaze, "he will receive the kiss. As for the one responsible for finding him; well, I believe I'll allow him to tell you his story." His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, and he gestured one hand towards the doorway.

Sirius turned curiously and there, standing awkwardly with hands in his pockets and a timid smile, was Remus Lupin. All Sirius could do was stare back.

After long moments of unsure silence, Sirius began to cross the room, stopping hesitantly in front of the other man. He cleared his throat once again to speak, but Remus beat him to it:

"Sirius, my old friend, I'm so sorry. I spotted Peter in Diagon Alley, and it took me a bit to piece it together... I should have given you a chance to explain, and I never did-"

"It's alright, Remus," Sirius cut him off hoarsely, still staring as though he was yet to be convinced this wasn't some surreal dream. "It's alright. Thank you." For the first time in years, Sirius smiled. It was small and forced and felt off, as though it was twisted wrongly, and he got the feeling it looked more like a grimace. Remus gave him a kind smile in return, placing a hand on his shoulder.

At once Sirius pulled his friend into a brief hug, patting his back. "I missed you, Moony," he said gruffly, his chest aching with all the loneliness of the past couple years. Remus pulled out of the short embrace with a warm smile, patting Sirius' arm.

"And I missed you, Padfoot. I'm afraid to admit life has been a bit dull without your antics; I'm happy to have you back." His eyes were slightly glossy.

Sirius smiled again; this one felt more natural. Dumbledore watched the pair of friends reminiscently, smiling whilst grabbing a candy from the dish on his desk. "Lemon drop?" he offered, popping one into his mouth. Both men declined as the old wizard took a seat at his wooden desk.

A sudden thought popped into Sirius' mind- a very important one. This particular thought was enough to snap Sirius out of his wonder-struck daze. Abruptly he strode over to Dumbledore's desk and placed his palms on it, leaning towards his old teacher, who quirked a brow in question.

"Where's Harry?" Sirius asked. "Who's been looking after him? Can I see him?" The thought of the child instantly swelled his heart with fondness; he, along with the knowledge that Sirius was innocent, kept the man sane during his horrific imprisonment. And Harry, unknowingly, had been his main reason to carry on.

Revenge on Peter was a very, very close second; his desire to positively tear the man in two had fueled his will to live, if not in the healthiest way. But Harry... during the very bleakest days of Azkaban, Sirius would think of his godson. His best friend, his _brother_ , was dead (which was enough to nearly hurl Sirius over the edge) but miraculously, his son was not. There was still something very innocent and worthwhile to hold onto, something left over from Sirius' life before; something from James and Lily themselves. If nothing else, Sirius had endured and emerged the place with some sanity intact because of Harry Potter. James' boy.

Dumbledore chuckled at the young man's sudden eagerness. "Ah, yes, I was beginning to wonder when you'd ask about young Harry." He paused. "Once you've taken care of the arrangements needed for yourself now that you're free, I'm certain a visit will be possible."

Sirius was silent for a moment. "Sir, I was under the impression Harry was to come and live with me. I'm his godfather, and Lily and James said if anything ever happened to them-"

"Indeed, and I've no doubt you'd do wonderfully as his guardian," Dumbledore interrupted him with a gently raised hand. "However... due to circumstance, Harry is safest where he is now, with his aunt and uncle."

Sirius looked mildly affronted. "Why there? I'd protect him with my life."

"I don't doubt that," Dumbledore said sincerely. "However, there are certain blood wards protecting Harry while he continues to live in the Dursley's home. Lily saved Harry on that terrible night; her death left a protective magic of some sort over her son. Voldemort was unable to destroy young Harry," he explained softly, "because of Lily's sacrifice. Her selfless act of love caused the curse to rebound off of Harry back to it's caster."

He set his chin in his clasped hands. "The Dursley's are Harry's only remaining blood relatives. He is safe there, safer than anywhere else he might be, as Lily's protection remains on him. While I wish I could give him to you as his parents had intended, you must understand why this is the best option."

Not currently having much leverage to argue the matter further, Sirius bit his cheek resignedly. Realistically he probably wasn't best suit to be raising a child at the moment, anyhow, but the thought of being with James' son soothed the hollow ache that had been residing within him the past couple of years. He offered Dumbledore a brief nod.

"I understand. I'd like to see him, though, Albus. I want to see how he's grown." And, for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, thinking about Harry's current whereabouts made his stomach churn a bit uncomfortably. He could vaguely recall Lily's description of her sister being rather unpleasant.

Dumbledore's smile was bright. "Of course, Sirius. A more than reasonable request. In the meantime, Remus," he addressed the man still standing a few feet away, "if you could, would you please assist Mr. Black with adjusting and settling back in with society?" he winked, and Remus nodded, taking this as his and Sirius' cues to leave.

The men bid their farewells and left their old headmaster's office. Crestfallen as Sirius was, he'd reluctantly continue to trust Dumbledore's judgement. When throwing out the idea of custody, he'd ignored the fact that his godson had already _had_ another home for two years now. No doubt Harry had grown used to living with his relatives, and likely wouldn't react well to a strange man waltzing in asking to whisk him away.

He wondered about the Dursleys. Perhaps Lily's sister had matured since her and Lily's school days? Harry as a baby was simply impossible not to love- and Sirius was only a _tad_ biased- surely, whatever the woman had had against her sister, Harry would have won her family over. Was Harry still a spitting image of James? He'd be around three and a half now, Sirius quickly calculated. He found himself suddenly grinning like a madman. The first true, large grin he'd had in recent memory.

He'd be seeing his godson soon.

He looked to Remus, his grin widening even further. He was actually with one of his best friends again. Walking alongside him through Hogwarts not as an acclaimed mass murderer, but a free man. Remus caught sight of this and smiled back, regardless of not knowing why.

 _He was free._

For the first time in _years_ , Sirius could dare to hope that things just might be alright again.


	3. Enter the Dursleys

The week and a half between his release and paying Harry a visit had been busy, to say the least.

At one point he'd received a letter from Cornelius Fudge, clarifying the Minister's release of Sirius from Azkaban prison and alerting him he'd be receiving over 300,000 galleons for his wrongful imprisonment. Quite quickly, Sirius had found a place for himself; a decent sized home out in the countryside, not very far from Remus's own cottage.

The first time he had looked in a mirror after being released he had almost yelled out in shock. His once admittedly very handsome face was now gaunt and pale. He resembled a living skeleton, and looking at himself for too long gave him the chills. Now he was beginning to fill back out as he was eating normally, and he'd had his long, tangled and dirty hair cut. He was slowly looking more like his old self, like an actual person, with each new day.

His release had been publicized almost immediately: **Sirius Black, convicted mass-murderer, declared innocent and freed of all charges.** Judging by all the gawking stares and panicky reactions of folks, not everyone was wholly convinced he wasn't a maniacal Death Eater ready to blow up an entire street. He'd chosen to ignore the stares and hushed whispers when he'd gone to retrieve money from Gringotts and done his shopping in Diagon Alley. He felt almost like a corpse walking among the living, at times, as though he didn't quite belong in these people's world.

At the very least, he'd had Remus along with him whenever he'd make trips out to the public. Having his old friend near had helped things immensely- they'd quickly gone back to acting as their old selves around each other, joking and laughing as they had in their more carefree days. A tiny amount of distance remained between the pair, however, as though a very thin, almost invisible wall existed between them. Sirius knew there were still things that probably needed to be said. In the months leading up to the night Sirius was locked away, the two hadn't been on good terms; they'd been suspicious and untrusting of one another. He hoped the discomfort would go away with time. Moony was one of the only friends he had left. The only _best_ friend he had left.

And then there was Pettigrew. Hatred for the rat continued to ebb within Sirius, and he carried it with him everywhere he went. He could not stop the way he stiffened at the mere mention of the man's name. Though he knew the vermin would be getting what he deserved, the knowledge of his crime still filled Sirius with unadulterated rage. He'd had strong wishes to be the one to kill him, to exact his revenge and finally gain some closure on the matter- but he had to repeatedly remind himself to stop thinking about it. He'd done enough of that in Azkaban, and now, the matter was out of his hands.

For now, he needed to try and remember how to be normal. He had to try to pick up his life where he'd left off, if that was even possible. That was probably one reason he was so eager to see Harry again.

While shopping for himself, he had also picked up a Christmas gift for his godson. Christmas was nearly two weeks away still, but he was hoping to stop and see the boy before then, in case his family was planning on being gone for the holiday. Uncertain about what exactly a three year old would even like, he'd settled on buying a miniature toy Quidditch set. It included small cartoonish figures of the Chudley Cannons' players.

Never too early to get the boy on the right track and liking the right teams, he'd thought smugly.

And now, a week and a half after his release, here he stood anxiously at the door of number 4 Privet Drive. He knocked the door, shifting his weight from one foot to another and holding Harry's wrapped present in one arm.

He heard muffled voices from inside the house, and moments later was greeted by a large, puffy-faced man. Sirius blinked. The fellow must have been about the size of a baby whale.

"Why, hello, how may we help you?" the man- Vernon, wasn't that his name? - asked him loudly. A blonde, horse-faced woman wearing an apron appeared behind him with a sugary smile.

Petunia, Sirius presumed. _Lily clearly got the good end of the gene pool_ , he thought to himself as he noted how abnormally long the woman's thin neck was. He summoned up his most charming smile for the couple.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, is it? So sorry for stopping by unannounced, but I... I was friends with your sister, Lily." He nodded his head at Petunia, whose face at once dropped it's smile and turned a curious shade of pink.

"I'm Harry's godfather, and I was wondering if I could pay him a visit."

Petunia had pressed her lips together and now looked appalled. Vernon's face was turning an odd color as well. Sirius switched his gaze between the two of them, raising a brow.

"The boy's godfa- you want- y-you're one of _them_!" Vernon spat, the rolls on his chin quivering. He stuck a stubby finger into Sirius' face.

Sirius blinked at Vernon as if he'd grown another head, bewildered by the drastic change in demeanor. "One of who, now?"

Petunia hurried off into a different room, and Vernon continued to glare furiously at him. " _Your_ kind… is not welcome here. It's bad enough of your lot to leave the little _freak_ on our doorstep, and take advantage of the kind and loving people we are-"

"Oy!" Sirius exclaimed, his bafflement quickly morphing into anger. " _My_ kind? 'The little freak'? How dare you-"

"-and if the boy had a bloody godfather this entire time, tell me, why on earth are _we_ stuck with him?" Vernon roared, spittle flying from his mouth. "Graciously bringing him into our home, giving him a roof over his head and giving him _our_ food, none of which he deserves! All the while putting up with his freakish antics-"

The man stopped suddenly as a wand was pointed dangerously near his face. His eyes bulged and his jaw snapped shut, and he started to sweat profusely.

"You'd be wise to shut your mouth now, Dursley, while I've still reason to refrain from hexing you right through the wall," Sirius warned, his tone forcibly calm, though his pulse had quickened with Vernon's words. Had he heard the raving brute correctly? The man, for whatever reason, had the gall to insist that a three year old didn't deserve his own family's _roof_ and _food_?

Grimly satisfied with Vernon's silence, Sirius lowered his wand, running a hand irately through his hair. He saw Petunia in the other room, shooing the fattest little boy he'd ever seen away from the scene. He was licking chocolate off of his pudgy hands. Overhearing Petunia's muttered "Come along, Duddkyins, let's get far away from the strange man," Sirius noted -with some relief- that that was not Harry.

He turned his focus back to Vernon, who looked half frightened out of his wits and half enraged. Just as Sirius opened his mouth with the intention of asking 'now, if you would kindly lead me to my godson, you fat oaf', a tiny head peeked out from the other room.

This little head, whose raven hair was messy and sticking up wildly, just like James', and whose eyes were a startlingly bright green, just like Lily's, was watching Sirius with curiosity.

The trembling whale of a man in front of him momentarily forgotten, Sirius met his godson's gaze, feeling his face light up with a grin. "Hi, there," he said, stepping a bit closer to the boy. His eyes were drawn to the scar on the child's forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt, and the sight brought him a pang of regret.

Harry Potter looked uncertainly from this stranger, to his uncle, and back to the stranger. Seemingly encouraged by Sirius' warm expression, he offered a shy smile in return. "Hi."

Sirius was overcome with affection as he took in the sight of Harry. The kid was beautiful, truly the best of both of his parents. Unexpected warmth sprang to his eyes, and he quickly blinked it away in surprise. Clearing his throat, he knelt before Harry and held out his gift with one arm. "Merry Christmas to you, Harry. I've brought an early gift. I'm your godfather; my name is Sirius Black."

Though Harry likely had no idea what a 'godfather' was, he was certainly eyeing the present with interest. As he reluctantly stepped into the room, Sirius was made aware of his godson's clothes being about four times too large.

"A present?" Harry repeated. He stared up at Sirius incredulously, and Sirius would've probably found his dramatic expression amusing if he weren't struggling so with keeping his anger at bay.

Vernon seemed to find courage enough to speak again, as he abruptly rounded on Sirius. "If whatever you're giving him has anything to do with-with- _magic,_ " he hissed, "the boy will not be taking it. We don't tolerate that nonsense in this house."

Little Harry, ever wary of his uncle's raised voice, backed up a bit.

"Nonsense?" Sirius repeated in a clipped tone, eyes drawn to Harry's fearful face. "Your nephew _is_ magical, Dursley. That 'nonsense' is the world he belongs to." So, his nagging doubts about this household had been confirmed. He'd obviously been wrong, holding out hope that Petunia's family had changed any, that they had found it in their hearts to love Harry.

Harry was not loved here.

The thought was enough to make him feel ill. This family, and the way they paraded around their obvious disdain for Harry, and spoke as though his mere existence was some awful burden, had been Harry's caregivers the past couple years. What in the hell had Dumbledore been _thinking_ , plopping Harry off with these ogres? Had the man gone completely senile? This family's dislike for magic folk, especially for Harry it seemed, could not have been a secret- they were about as subtle as a blaring horn. He would most definitely be having a little chat with his old headmaster, and very soon.

Petunia entered the room, panicked, and the two men turned. "Our little Dudders is throwing up all over the place, Vernon! Right after I took him away from Harry, he complained of being strangely ill. I think that that _child_ has done something..."

Pointedly ignoring Sirius' presence, Petunia shot Harry a venomous glare of accusation. The child froze in place.

"Boy, I've just about had enough of you," Vernon ground out and, seeming to forget Sirius' threats, reached for Harry with a beefy arm, "and now your _weirdness_ is affecting Dudley...!"

Harry flinched at the same time that a shocked Sirius made to quickly move in front of him.

"Oh, for God's sake!" he snapped, now a protective barrier between Harry and his uncle. "You're joking, right? I mean, you lot must just be complete _nutters_ , right? Blaming the fact that your son is throwing up on the supposed abilities of a toddler? Your piglet son is probably sick from all the bloody candy I just watched him inhale!"

This was ridiculous. Damn the blood wards and whatever else Dumbledore had said. Harry living here was, quite obviously, _not_ the best option.

"I've seen enough," he raged, "and I've been here perhaps five minutes. I'm taking my godson and leaving; you people clearly don't deserve him. Harry," he turned to the small boy, who was biting his lip anxiously. His feet had remained glued to the spot.

"Would you _like_ to come and be with me, instead, Har?" Sirius asked hurriedly, trying to adopt a gentler tone. A nagging voice in his head warned that he was rushing into things- it sounded suspiciously like Remus- but he ignored it, as per usual. At the moment he just wanted Harry the hell out of here, and he was not about to sit and wait for someone else's approval to do it. "We... can open your present elsewhere. I know, I know you wouldn't remember me, but..." He took deep breaths in an attempt to quell his rising temper. "I loved your mother and father very much. Just as I love you."

Harry's eyes were wide as saucers, taking in Sirius carefully, seeming to decide that this man was not all that scary to speak with. "Love _me_?" he repeated, searching Sirius' face skeptically.

"Yes, you, Harry," Sirius told him firmly, his throat beginning to feel clogged. "Very, very much, in fact. Would you like to come with me?"

Harry looked to his aunt and uncle, seemingly unsure if they would allow this. They stared at him and at each other with ticking jaws.

"It is about bloody _time_. Go with him, boy, and good riddance," Vernon muttered.

Sirius exhaled quickly from his nose, hand twitching with the need to punch the man square in the face. A small tug on his sleeve caused him to stiffly turn his gaze downward, where green eyes were focused on the item still being clutched in Sirius' hand. Harry's face held the beginnings of a timid smile.

"I'll get a present?" he inquired again. Sirius breathed out a short laugh, despite himself; apparently that was an important part of the child's decision.

"Yeah, you'll get the present. And lots more, as it's Christmas very soon," he winked, a bit absently. Harry's smile grew.

"What do you say, Har?"

"Okay." Harry was beaming now. Sirius allowed himself a small grin.

"Great. Great, Harry! Now, you want to go and grab some of your things, bud? We should be on our way quickly, so that we may be out of your _delightful_ relatives' hair," Sirius threw at the family scathingly. Harry nodded vigorously and cautiously rushed past a tight lipped Petunia to a cupboard under the stairs. He opened it and leaned inside until all Sirius could see were his tiny legs.

Puzzled, Sirius looked from this to the Dursleys, who were eyeing both him and the cupboard with a hint of fear.

"Erm... Harry, is there something in there that you want to bring along?" Sirius asked, tearing his eyes away from the family's sudden peculiar behavior. All of Harry reappeared after a moment, his hands full with little toy soldiers.

"My toys," he told Sirius matter-of-factly, and Sirius smiled at him.

"Very nice. Is there anything from your room you'd like to bring?"

Harry looked to the toys cupped in his hands and then back at Sirius. "My room!" he gestured his clasped hands to the cupboard. "Got all my toys."

Sirius, staring dumbly at the toys, took a moment to realize what Harry meant. "You've... kept him in your _broom cupboard_?" he ground out. The way Vernon shifted uncomfortably, Sirius guessed that he must have currently looked every bit the murderer that the newspapers had portrayed him to be. Petunia, however, raised her chin defiantly.

"We've done more for the boy than we ever needed to," she informed him coldly, and Sirius' vision went red. "You should be leaving, now. You've long overstayed your welcome, and I have a darling little boy to look after. The further you both end up from this house, the better." She turned on her heel and scuttled off to retrieve her soon.

Sirius threateningly strode towards Vernon before halting, forcing himself to take long, shaky breaths; how he had not yet literally exploded at this point, he was most uncertain. He felt as though several blood vessels in his head might pop. James' and Lily's son, their _baby_ , treated little better than a house elf. He forced Vernon to meet his gaze. "This will be the last time you see Harry, but not the last time you see me," he warned lowly. Vernon looked infuriated by the threat but Sirius already had his back to him, unwilling to waste any more time on the man.

This was about Harry. All of it was.

The little boy had just emerged from his cupboard once more, dragging a pillowcase to place his few toys in. Sirius tried to muster up a smile as he reached out a hand.

"Ready to go, kid?"

Harry nodded and, hesitantly, grabbed one of Sirius' fingers. He clutched his pillowcase to his chest and timidly looked back at his relatives, who were now all gathered in a huddle to watch the pair with narrowed eyes. Dudley did look rather green.

"Bye bye," he said softly, and he was met with dead silence. Sirius clenched his jaw so tightly he was surprised he didn't break a tooth. He gave them all one final, heated glare before turning his heel to lead his tiny godson right out the door.

Yes, he decided; before stopping home, he would _very_ much like a chat with his dear old headmaster.


	4. Marks by Whom

**Author's Note:** Alrighty, folks, here's chapter four! I hope I'm getting the characters' voices right so far- especially Harry's dialogue as such a youngster. Let me know your thoughts! And enjoy. :)

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Of _course,_ Albus Dumbledore would have chosen now of all times to be away from his office on a Ministry visit.

Patience was not Sirius' strong suit, and this day seemed particularly fond of testing his.

He growled his annoyance, biting his cheek as he pondered his next move. His hand was still being clutched tightly by Harry, who was looking up at his godfather and the castle around him with awe. The little boy was still absolutely astonished at the fact that they had just _flown_ here on a _motorcycle_. But he'd been sure to keep his mouth shut.

In his excitement at the chance to be far away from his unpleasant family's house, he'd instantly agreed to go with this man, but honestly, Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of him. He was far kinder to Harry than anyone else had been. However, especially now, he also seemed very angry. He shifted inside Sirius' enormous coat that the man had draped around him when they'd gotten outside, both unwilling to reenter the house just to grab one of Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Minerva McGonagall pursed her lips at Sirius. "I'm sorry, Mr. Black. What was it that you needed?" She looked down to Harry, half hidden behind Sirius' leg, and smiled warmly, an expression she rarely granted her students with. "Hello, Mr. Potter. My, how you've grown."

"Hullo," Harry mumbled, biting his lip. He tightened his hold on his pillowcase and shifted his eyes up to Sirius.

"I came to speak with Albus," Sirius declared. "I need to ask about some of his _questionable_ decisions as of late."

He didn't flinch at McGonagall's sharp look, and quickly spoke before she could: "If you could just tell him I stopped by, please, and that I'd like to have a word as soon as possible."

McGonagall's lips thinned into a line, but she apparently decided to hold her tongue. She gave a curt nod. "Will do, Black."

Not feeling up for casual conversation with his old professor, or with anyone for that matter, Sirius nodded his thanks and made to leave. "Sirius?" a small voice broke him out of his thoughts. Looking down, he finally took notice to Harry's wide eyed bewilderment and sighed. He hadn't explained a thing; he'd barely talked to the kid since they left the Dursleys. Sirius simply didn't have words yet for his utter indignation over the situation- er, not ones entirely suitable for Harry's young ears, anyway. He'd just picked his godson up, plopped him in the sidecar of his bike and drove here, storming right up to Dumbledore's office, all in mostly angry silence.

Harry was watching him cautiously. "Did I... um... do somefin' bad?" he inquired, rubbing at his head. Sirius stopped in his tracks.

"No... no, of course not! What ever made you think that?" he stammered, but as soon as the words were out, he gave himself a mental kick. Of _course_ he knew what made Harry think that. Sirius was sure his irritation was practically radiating off of him in waves.

"You're angry," the child whispered, avoiding Sirius' eye. Sirius shook his head and smoothed Harry's hair back; he frowned when the child flinched slightly at the contact.

"I _am_ angry. Very angry. But not at you, bub," he reassured him, instinctively using an old nickname he'd called Harry as a baby. " _For_ you. You've done absolutely nothing wrong, alright?"

Harry snuck him a thoughtful glance. After some moments of contemplating something, he rose on his tip-toes as if to tell Sirius a secret. Sirius leaned down so as to hear him.

"That lady had a funny hat," Harry informed him very seriously. Realizing he meant McGonagall, Sirius let out a bark-like laugh, kneeling down to Harry's level with a mischievous grin. "You'd better not say that around her; you'll be her student, after all, and I can tell you from experience, her bad side is an awful place to be."

Noting Harry's confusion, Sirius went on: "Welcome to Hogwarts, by the way! This is where you'll go to school when you're bigger. You'll learn all about magic, just like your mum and dad did-" he paused when Harry furrowed his brows. "What is it?" Sirius asked.

"Magic," Harry shook his head vigorously. "Magic is not real. Aunt Petun'a said no."

Well, Sirius shouldn't have really been surprised, at this point. "Magic is very real, Harry. Your aunt was wrong," he said firmly, his frustration with the infuriating woman resurfacing.

Echoes of the family calling Harry ' _freak_ ' bounced through his mind. "In fact, I wouldn't believe anything those people might have said to you. Not one word. Alright?" Harry nodded too quickly, ducking his chin at Sirius' raising voice.

Sirius continued on, making a considerable effort to calm his voice. "You are a wizard, Harry- that's someone who is magical. Your mum and dad were, too. And so am I." He gave pause, not entirely sure how much he could have a three year old understand of this. Perhaps he'd make more attempts later on, once Harry was more settled. This was all an enormous amount for a child to process, after all.

Harry's eyes lit up suddenly, and Sirius was struck by how much of James he saw when the boy gave a mischievous grin. "I can do magic? Like the flyin' mowercycle?"

Sirius' lip twitched upward at the mispronunciation. "Yes, Harry, you can do magic. I... have a great deal to explain to you, don't I?" He rubbed at his chin. "For now, though, we'd better get going so I can show you your new home. What do you say?" Something in Harry's face changed, then, and it was as though he'd decided he could let some of his guard down around this man. He bounced a little on his feet.

"And open my present?" he asked excitedly.

Sirius, delighted by Harry's shift in demeanor, mock rolled his eyes and stood back up, taking the boy's hand in his own. Such a tiny hand. He held it carefully.

"Harry James! All you want from me is my present, isn't it?" he sighed in pretend exasperation, turning the present in his other hand. "Yeah, yeah, you'll get your gift. And you'll get more, too, but you can't open them until Christmas day, alright?" he winked.

"I get _more_?" Harry practically squeaked. His face when he looked up to Sirius was one of unconcealed amazement. His next question, worded more clearly than anything else he'd said, made Sirius' breath hitch: "Why are you so nice to me?"

For what must have been the hundredth time that day, Sirius' stomach plummeted. Unable to find words to convey to such a small child that he did not _ever_ had to prove himself worthy to be loved, Sirius, wordlessly and on impulse, scooped the child up into his arms. Harry stiffened. Sirius held him firmly, alarmed at how light he was, and rested his chin atop Harry's messy hair, eyes to the the ceiling as if in a plea for help.

They stayed this way for several moments, until Harry eventually relaxed into Sirius' embrace.

Turning at the sound of footsteps, Sirius spotted what looked like an overgrown bat swooping around the corner.

"Snape," he grunted, shifting Harry to his hip. He sure as hell did not have any desire to deal with Snape, of _all_ people, at the moment. Hadn't he dealt with enough vile beings for one day? He'd refrained from punching any of them thus far, but, honestly, he couldn't make any more promises.

Severus Snape acknowledged him with disinterest, offering a curt nod. "Looking marvelous, Black," he sniffed, smirking at Sirius' still somewhat haggard appearance.

"Yeah, well, being wrongly thrown into Azkaban for a couple years will do that to a person," Sirius retorted irately. "Still haven't gotten around to washing that hair of yours, I see."

Snape curled his lip, eyeing Sirius with obvious disdain. "Clearly, your time in prison failed to rid you of your childish ways." His black eyes fell to Harry, and he quirked a brow at the enormous coat that seemed to drown the little boy.

"Potter, I presume?" he drawled. Harry gave no response, hiding his head into Sirius' chest. Sirius gave the child's back a pat, shooting Snape a warning glare.

"What are you doing with the child _here_ , Black? Pity; the poor lad's inherited his father's looks," Severus snickered. "Let us hope that his arrogance and low intelligence were not passed down, as well."

Oh, if only Sirius could reach his wand. "Do not _dare_ ," he growled, tightening his hold on Harry, "to speak of James, or any one of the Potters, in front of _me_. You're certainly one to talk about childishness, _Snivellus_ , insulting a three year old." Wanting no more to do with the ball of grease, Sirius stalked past his old schoolmate, keeping his distance.

He would have gleefully given the man that punch that he'd been waiting to deliver all day, had a squeamish Harry not been front seat audience to it.

"Time to go home, kid," he announced instead. Harry clutched the back of Sirius' neck to peer over the man's shoulder, back to the scary man with dark eyes, who watched them leave with distaste before storming away.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Whoa," Harry breathed, his hair even wilder than usual from the whipping wind. Sirius smiled at the child's pink and grinning face and lifted him out of the passenger seat of his bike. Eyeing the snow surrounding his home, and then Harry's old, holey sneakers, Sirius propped the boy on his hip. They made their way up towards the house, the snow crunching loudly under Sirius' boots.

"Aaaaand... welcome home!" Sirius declared once they were inside, lifting his jacket off of Harry to throw lazily over a chair.

Harry hummed as he took the place in. "It's pretty," he said very honestly. Sirius' grin was wide at his godson's approval. "I'm quite fond of it, myself. Now, want to go see your room, little man?"

Harry nodded and Sirius climbed the stairs up to the second floor. "This," Sirius announced, setting Harry down in front of a bedroom door to the immediate right, a room that Sirius had intended as a guest room, anyway, "is now yours. I, ah, know it's bland right now. Don't worry- we'll get around to decorating it for you."

Harry gawked. "This whole _thing_? Is _mine_?"

Sirius ruffled the boy's hair sadly, grinding his teeth at the thought of Harry previously sleeping in a broom cupboard. "All yours, bub. Every bit of it." _Take a deep breath_. "Do you like it?"

He got an enthusiastic "yes" in response.

"My room is right down the hall, to the left, there," Sirius pointed, and saw Harry yawn tiredly. He took in the child's scruffy appearance. "You know, I think you need a bath, kid."

He snorted when Harry immediately scrunched his nose. "Not a fan of bathing, eh?"

Harry chose not to respond, opting to look at and play with his stubby fingers. "Can't say I blame you," Sirius said, ushering Harry into the bathroom anyway, "I certainly was never a fan as a kid. I can still hear my mother shrieking at me as I trekked through the house encrusted in mud." He smirked, grimly satisfied that he'd been able to cause such trouble for the heartless woman before she'd passed on. "Good times."

He set Harry to sit by the sink as he started the bathwater, then moved to rummage through the cabinets in search of shampoo and soap. "This one doesn't have to be long. I'd just like to be able to see what my godson actually looks like under all the grime," Sirius teased, poking Harry in the stomach as the child squeaked "I don't have grime!"

Sirius continued his rummaging, mumbling to himself about needing to do some shopping, before straightening with his acquired items in hand. He looked to Harry, who was gnawing at his lip. "You ready?"

Harry eyed the filling tub nervously. "Nuh uh."

Well, then. How exactly did one negotiate with a three year old? "Well, er... here. How about you can play with the toys you brought in the tub?" Sirius suggested. "And... I've added bubbles!" he added helplessly.

Harry seemed to take these things into serious consideration. Deciding that the bath indeed looked considerably more pleasant than the cold ones he was forcibly given by his aunt, he sighed, "Okay."

"Good lad!" Sirius smiled, inwardly cheering at his victorious negotiation. In all truth, though, Harry was just a rather compliant child. Sirius hoped both that Harry's confidence would grow, in time, and that Sirius himself would actually be able to put his foot down when necessary. He set about unlacing and pulling off Harry's shoes, mismatched socks and torn up pants, and then set him on the ground as to pull off his overly large shirt and stained shirt. They would need to go clothes shopping soon as well, he thought to himself, biting his cheek at the sorry state of his godson's garments. If he'd learned anything of value that day, it was that the Dursleys were unreasonable bastards.

Harry shook his four toy soldiers out of the pillowcase and into the water. They each landed with _plops_.

When Sirius lifted Harry by his underarms, Harry stiffened at once, wincing in pain. "What, Harry?" Sirius asked in sudden alarm, "what's wrong?" Harry continued to look pained, whimpering as Sirius eased him quickly into the tub. "What's hurting you?" he asked, concerned, turning the little boy to look him over.

His face drained of all color at what he found.

Faded, but still nasty, purple and black bruises were littered down Harry's back, a particularly large one near the back of his neck. The shirt he'd been wearing had just barely hidden it. Sirius' fingers must have pressed into the ones between Harry's shoulders when he'd lifted his godson.

He was fairly certain that if he could see himself in the mirror, his eyes would be blood red, and there would be steam coming out of his ears. "Harry," he somehow managed to say unevenly, his throat feeling as though he'd swallowed gravel. Harry looked over his shoulder at him in question.

Sirius cleared his throat in vain and turned the boy gently as he was able, cupping his face with increasingly unsteady hands. "Your uncle, or aunt, or both, they hurt you," he stated gravely. Harry's emerald eyes met the gray of Sirius'. Sad, young replicas of Lily Evans' eyes. They flicked back to the bruises Sirius was referring to and blinked. "Oh... no they didn't," he said simply, and Sirius' jaw could have dropped to his lap. Why on _earth_ would he feel the need to defend those monsters?

"Dudley," Harry corrected before Sirius could start vehemently protesting. "Dudley hurt there."

Sirius gave pause, his ire boiling just under the surface. "Your cousin?" he clarified slowly, and Harry bobbed his head up and down. " _Dudley_ did _that_ to you?" Sirius stressed again, pointing to the boys back, still unwilling to let go of his murderous fury towards the Dursley parents. Not until he was absolutely certain they hadn't laid their hands on his godson. "Can you tell me how?"

Little Harry furrowed his brows, as if he was unsure why Sirius was even bothering to ask about it. "I was- I was way up top, on the stairs," Harry gestured his little arms high in the air to convey to Sirius just how high up he'd been. "Dudley _pushed_ ," he continued, "and I fell down, down, down. On here." He patted over his shoulder lightly where the bruises were.

"You fell down entire _stairs_?" Sirius breathed, a hand still cupping Harry's face. Merlin's bloody beard... "Does anything else hurt?" he asked hurriedly, panicking all the sudden at the thought of unknown injuries that he was sure as hell _no_ one had bothered to check out.

"No... 'm better now," Harry mumbled, observing Sirius thoughtfully.

Sirius was silent for a stretch. "This," he said quietly, gesturing to Harry's back, "was your cousin, then." His jaw ticked. "Your aunt and uncle, did _they_ ever hurt you?"

Harry looked to the wall of the tub in thought. "No," he said. Sirius searched the boys face carefully for any signs that he was withholding something.

"You're sure, Harry? You need to tell me if they have," he nearly pleaded. "You won't be in any trouble. I promise. But I _need_ to know."

"No," Harry shook his head again, and then his voice quieted. "Just loud. They yelled lots and lots."

Reigning in some of his reawakened rage, Sirius leaned back into a squatting position. He ran a wet hand down his face and let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. Alright, so Dudley had been a bullying little pig, no doubt a product of his fine parenting, but as far as Sirius could tell, and unless Harry was that skilled of a liar for his young age, his godson was telling the truth.

He'd unfortunately need to press Harry more about his relatives' handling of him, at some point. He needed to know _all_ of what those people had put Harry through. But looking at his godson's tired and still unsure eyes, Sirius knew the conversation would have to wait. For now, what was important was that Harry be able to settle into this new, very rushed situation comfortably.

"Alright, Harry. You don't know how happy I am to hear they didn't hurt you. But they still should never have screamed at you the way they did, either," Sirius told his little godson very seriously. "They should never have said _many_ of the things they did. Alright? Nothing you ever, _ever_ did meant they should be cruel to you."

Harry continued to stare at Sirius as he'd done practically all day, as if he were studying the man.

"Are you- are you gonn' be my daddy?" was what he eventually queried innocently, and shyly.

Sirius froze.

How should he answer that? 'Yes and no'? Would it be a betrayal to James to say 'yes'? Because technically, _yes_ , Sirius would now be fulfilling a father role. Oh, good lord, Sirius was a parent now. Obviously he'd readily agreed to this very responsibility the day he agreed to be a godfather (such an easy decision, despite his deeply buried doubts about himself; he'd _always_ loved Harry) but was _he_ really best suited for Harry, having just recently escaped a kind of hell on earth he'd been trapped in the past two years?

" _Thank you for agreeing to be his godfather, Sirius. It's a big promise, you know, that you'd raise him as your own- oh, of course you know that. I'm just trying to say I'm really thankful, mate, and I trust no one better with him than you."_

"Your parents," he began slowly, his chest constricting as James' words echoed in his mind, clear clear as the day his best friend had said them, "said that if anything ever happened to them, they wanted me to take care of you. I promised I'd be a father to you if they couldn't be here."

Remembering the words felt almost like a nod of approval from James himself, and so Sirius continued. "So, yes, in a way. I won't take that title away from _your_ daddy, James, though- and you'll learn all about him- but I'll love you every bit as much as he would." All doubts were washed away as Harry grabbed Sirius' fingers with his little hand, pruney from the bathwater.

"Okay," Harry said softly, smiling that half-smile that was so very _James,_ and Sirius had to smile at the child's simplicity.

"Okay," he repeated back just as softly, giving Harry's hand a squeeze.

He wouldn't fail James or Lily, he decided firmly. He would not fail Harry.

Not again.

"Alright, now, let's finish your bath. We still need to work at that grime," he tried to tease, feeling suddenly drained by the extreme range of emotions this day had tugged at from him. At Harry's indignant "I don't have _grime_!" Sirius grinned cheekily and began washing his godson's dark hair.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

A couple hours later found the two relaxing in the living room. Sirius had transformed Harry's tattered hand-me-downs into some comfortably fitting pajamas- they'd work fine until new ones were bought.

Sirius had begun to read the paper that he hadn't bothered glancing at this morning, while Harry lay nearby on a couch sleepily. He'd opened his godfather's present earlier and had spent the evening excitedly playing with his new toy, babbling and shrieking with laughter as the tiny Quidditch players flew around his head.

Sirius flicked his eyes over to his godson after he realized he'd gone quiet; Harry's cheek was pressed against a pillow and his eyes were starting to droop. Sirius had just decided on putting the child to bed when bold letters on the paper he'd grabbed caught his eye; **Bartemius Crouch Sr., former Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, found dead in home earlier this a.m.** Sirius' brows furrowed at the news, but before he could read on for any details, there was a knock at the front door.

One of Harry's eyes opened sleepily at the noise before slowly slipping closed again. Sirius' lip twitched at the sight as he left his seat to head for the door. Remembering that his home was not yet warded, he took out his wand, cautiously holding it in front of him as he opened the door.

"Moony!" he greeted, inviting the man in and out of the cold. "Hey, there! How'd your interview today go?"

"Hello, Padfoot," Remus greeted; his smile was tired. "My interview... well, I've certainly had worse," he chuckled. "I've got another tomorrow, though, so there's hope there."

Sirius frowned in sympathy, feeling sadness on Remus' behalf. "Ah, dammit. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, Sirius. I came to ask how your visit with Harry went," Remus said, adjusting his scarf around his neck. "Did you end up going?"

Sirius' eyes darkened, and he jerked his head towards the living room. "Yeah, I did, and it was god-awful. Harry is here now, and he will not be going back," he said shortly. Remus blinked in puzzlement.

"Harry is... here... ah. And has Dumbledore agreed to this, Sirius?" he asked, giving his friend a pointed look.

"I don't rightly care about what he does or doesn't agree to right now, Remus. The man literally placed Harry in the most anti-wizard family one could dream up," Sirius drawled. "Once I get a moment alone with the old crackpot I'm going to give him a piece of my mind-"

Remus' gaze switched to something behind him, and Sirius stopped and turned to see Harry standing in the archway, rubbing a small fist against his eyes. The child looked at Remus curiously.

"Harry," Sirius said gently, walking over to the boy and, more mindfully this time, picking him up. "This is my best friend, Remus." He turned Harry towards the sandy-haired man. "He's very nice. When he wants to be."

Remus rolled his eyes and smiled at Harry, his face one of great kindness and warmth. "Hello, little one, and how are you?"

Harry seemed to find the man's presence reassuring, as he smiled back. "Good," he said. "'m Harry." Remus chuckled. "Yes, indeed- I know well who you are."

A scratching noise was heard from the window, and Sirius could make out an owl outside, a letter in it's beak. "Now who's that from?" he murmured, making his way across the room. With a grunt he opened the window one armed, and the owl stepped inside, ruffling it's feathers to rid of flecks of snow."Owl," Harry said cheerfully as he reached out to pet the bird's feathery head. Sirius took the letter from the owl's mouth, looking it over curiously.

As he ripped it open and scanned it's contents, his jaw tightened. "Dumbledore," he told Remus. "He's back at Hogwarts and wants to see me. Would you mind staying here with Harry, Moony?"

Remus was still eyeing him skeptically. "No doubt he's realized Harry is gone, Sirius," he said, shaking his head. "Mind explaining things once you're back? And yes, I'd love to stay with Harry," he added, giving the child another smile.

"Yes, yes, I'll tell you everything then," Sirius said, waving a hand impatiently. "Why don't you show Remus your new toy?" he asked Harry, when the boy looked uncertain at being left alone with someone new.

Harry nearly tripped over himself at the reminder that he had an exciting new toy, and he was already off into the living room, racing towards his newest prized possession. Both men grinned in his wake.

"Thanks, Remus. I shouldn't be long," Sirius told his friend, shouldering on his coat as he headed towards the door.

Remus nodded over his shoulder and crouched down next to Harry, who shyly began to introduce to him all the pieces of his new Quidditch set, incorrectly pronouncing most of the terms. Sirius snickered, knowing Remus wasn't crazy about Quidditch, _especially_ not the Chudley Cannon's, for that matter.

Closing the door on Remus' voice gently asking Harry about his new toy, Sirius tilted his head back to sigh heavily up into the night air. He trudged towards his motorcycle. Off to Hogwarts he went, yet again.


End file.
